


iron dads don't get sick, do they?

by carefulren



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sick Character, Sick Tony Stark, Sickfic, Tumblr Prompt, basically spider son peter panicking for iron dad tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 02:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13424568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carefulren/pseuds/carefulren
Summary: the one where Tony attempts to hide being sick, and Peter panics





	iron dads don't get sick, do they?

Peter’s rambling; Tony knows this, sort of. He can hear words– excited words that mix with gasps and echo off the walls, but by the time they reach Tony, they become muffled, faint, lost against what sounds like his blood rushing to his ears. His grip on the table beside him tightens as his eyes follow Peter’s pacing; at times, Peter becomes a blurred mass of color that only rapid blinking can clear back into a person, and it has Tony sighing against a raw throat. 

He pushed himself too hard; he knows this. But, he promised Peter he would have the modifications of his suit finished by a certain time, and he’s a man of his word, as he likes to brag. So, he stayed up all night despite feeling run down, and now he’s silently suffering while Peter practically gushes over the suit. 

Even as a shudder shoots down his spine, bringing with it a blast of ice that spreads across his limbs and contrasts the heat pulling from his face, he still thinks it was worth it as he watches Peter’s face light up at the tiniest of details on the suit. 

Though, watching is suddenly becoming difficult. His vision’s blurring once more, but blinking isn’t helping like it has been. No. The room is growing dark, graying around the edges and moving in as if someone’s pushing against the walls. His head feels oddly light despite the heaviness of his body, and a new sense of burning coats his skin as his hand slips off the table, leaving him toppling to the floor with FRIDAY calling out to him. 

_“Sir?”_

The impact to the floor has the room bursting back into defined shapes and colors, but the scene’s been made, and Peter’s crouched in front of him, looking incredibly concerned, confused. 

“Mr. Stark?” 

“I’m fine,” Tony croaks out, waving one hand about as he glances around, almost dazed. 

_“Mr. Stark. Your body temperature is elevated to 102.7 degrees Fahrenheit. By my calculations, you are not fine.”_

Tony’s jaw clenches, aggravation tugging at his face as Peter gasps loudly in front of him. 

“102.7,” Peter starts, hopping to his feet and raking a shaking hand through his hair. “102.7! That’s not good, Mr. Stark!” He turns to pace the length of the room, wringing his hands as moves back and forth with quick, sharp steps. 

“Peter,” Tony tries, but the kid isn’t fully present, as it would seem. 

“That’s really not good,” Peter continues, words spilling from his tongue as if in a haste to flee. His face is scrunched up, and he pauses in his steps, turning sharply to face Tony once more. “Yesterday morning… When you stumbled in the kitchen– that’s why, isn’t it?” He motions toward Tony’s poor state. “Jesus, Tony,” he whispers, ignoring formalities as he crosses the room to crouch in front of Tony once more. “You can’t ignore your health! You’re old!” 

“Watch it,” Tony growls out, wincing slightly for Peter’s voice sounds like bombs blowing up within his head. 

“Sorry,” Peter mutters as he reaches a hesitant hand out to cup Tony’s forehead. “Shit,” he hisses, pulling his hand back as worry colors his wide eyes. “We gotta… I gotta-” he stops, unsure of what to do because he’s not often put in this situation. He’s normally the one laid up with a fever while Tony’s dotes over him. 

A string of anxiety twists within his stomach because what if this is bad– like, really bad? What if Tony is dying? What if his body is slowly deteriorating from some foreign virus? What if–

_“Peter, breathe.”_

 Peter lets out a breath he was unaware he was holding, forcing his lungs to cooperate as he gets to his feet. “I’ll find Steve,” he mutters, as if silently working out the idea with himself first. “Yeah,” he decides, nodding. “Steve can help!” He starts toward the door but whips around before he leaves from sight. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” he orders, voice taking on an authoritative tone he doesn’t take to often. “You may pass out… Bust a hip or something.” 

“I said watch it!” Tony shouts, but Peter’s already out the door and speeding down halls, turning corners as directed by FRIDAY until he’s skidding to a halt in the tower’s kitchen, where Steve is leaning against the counter with a coffee and a paper. 

“Pete?” 

“It’s Tony,” Peter huffs out, voice breathless as his chest heaves for air. And, he doesn’t have to explain; the panicked look in his eyes is enough to have Steve setting the cup and newspaper down and racing after Peter back to Tony. 

When the two reach the room Peter left Tony in, Tony’s up, looking entirely too pale, but he’s up and leaning heavily against the table, as if the act of standing seeped what little, remaining energy he had. 

“Tony,” Steve starts, crossing the room in long strides to reach Tony’s side, and Tony waves his hand with a sigh. 

“I’m fine,” he pushes, though his teeth are clenched together as waves of pain shoot across his forehead. 

“He’s not,” Peter fights back as he moves to stand beside Steve. “You’re not,” he pushes, eyeing Tony with crossed arms. 

Steve cups Tony’s cheek, frowning at the heat as his eyes take in Tony’s ghostly pallor and the beads of sweat pulling at his temple. “FRIDAY? Diagnosis?” 

“That’s not,” Tony tries, but FRIDAY cuts him off. 

_“It appears Mr. Stark has been running a fever for the last two days, one that has gotten progressively worse due to lack of sleep and lack of proper care. My scans show that he’s been pushing through a strain of the flu that can be remedied with medication and rest.”_

Peter’s shoulders sag with a wave of relief that sneaks up on him. “Thank god,” he mutters along of a puff of air, which earns mixed looks from Tony and Steve. With a sheepish grin, he rubs at the back of his neck with a shrug. “Sorry, I mean I’m not happy that you’re sick, but… I don’t know. I thought you were dying, Mr. Stark.” 

Tony rolls his eyes and allows Steve to snake an arm around his waist because he knows he’s not going to be able to walk back to his room alone. “I told you I’m fine,” Tony gripes out as the three start walking toward the door. “I’m not a grandpa, kid.” 

“I know,” Peter starts, tugging at the hem of his shirt as he follows the two down the hall. “I’m sorry; I just… You don’t get sick, Mr. Stark.” 

“No,” Tony agrees. “Not often– good thing, too, since you’ve got the whole ‘sick’ thing covered for all of us.” 

Ignoring this, Peter quickens his step until he’s walking alongside the two. “What can I do?” 

“You can find Banner,” Steve offers despite Tony’s mumbled protests, and Peter agrees, sprinting ahead of the two to find the doctor. 

“I don’t need Bruce,” Tony mutters. 

“Humor me.” 

“You know I don’t need him,”Tony tries, and Steve sighs as the two turn into Tony’s room. 

“Then see Banner for Peter,” Steve starts as he walks Tony to the bed. “Because I have a feeling he’s not going to relax until you’re cleared by a doctor, since you’re so old and all.” 

“I don’t think you’re one to talk about my being old, Cap,” Tony mutters, tired voice holding a slight tease that has Steve breathing out a quiet laugh. 

“Stop talking and rest,” Steve orders, a small smile playing at his lips. 

“Fine,” Tony grumbles as he crawls under the blankets. “When did you get so bossy?”

**Author's Note:**

> even Iron Dad can get sick


End file.
